


Claws

by LittleSpacePrince



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Collars, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Doggy Style, Dom Will Graham, Dom/sub, Dominant Bottom, Leashes, M/M, Power Bottom Will Graham, Sub Hannibal Lecter, Top Hannibal Lecter, submissive top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: Will was growing impatient. Enough was enough.





	Claws

**Author's Note:**

> Porn Day Installment 2. WOOT.

There was a lie that he had told himself from the beginning. 

It was an easy lie to tell when he was feeding Will’s illness, feeding his fear. Easier still when gloved hands pushed through dark curls as the tube was forced down his throat and Abigail’s ear was planted within him. Lies so easily told when Will was trapped behind bars, lies easier still when he was left to bleed out on the kitchen floor. It was easy to convince himself that he was in control over the situation at all times, that Will could not leash him, could not hold him by the reigns. 

But such lies served only to comfort himself. Hannibal was not a man of relinquished control, not a man to allow himself such reckless abandonment for the sake of another man. He submitted to none, relinquished his control for no man. He would offer no such acts of submission, no such acts of relinquishment, not even for his precious Will. None would dare hold him. None would dare bind him. 

That was what he told himself, anyway. 

Easier that way, than to admit Will’s hold on him from the start. Easier to cling to his notions of control when each act had been in rebellion to the leash that Will Graham had already tied tight around his neck. A dog bucking against its owner’s will, straining until it choked itself, rubbing raw against the flesh of the neck until it finally learned to submit to the will of the master. The dog would fight and protest, drag its master a few stumbling inches forward, but efforts to drag them both into traffic would prove futile every time. 

Hannibal, though, remained bucking against the leash. The flesh of his throat rubbed raw, until blood and bruise was drawn to the surface, and Will stood still, waiting for him to tire himself out and fall to his feet in obedience. 

 

Their fall had been an act of submission in itself. It had been preceded by many others, but lines had remained blurred, unsure of who was the one in control, just blurred enough that Hannibal might fool himself. But the fall, his body falling lax as Will pulled them both into the sea, it had been submission of the highest degree. That he might risk himself to drown beneath the roaring waves, all for the sake of his William. He allowed himself to fall and to freeze, to be washed upon the shore, to choke on the saltwater and savor in the sting against his wounds, it was an act of pure surrender. 

With it, submission came with less resistance. The bruises and blood came less frequently, and the constant battle for dominance came in shorter, less violent bursts. Instead of this battle being waged in blood and knives, it came forged in sex and teeth. 

It took only enough time for their wounds to heal before they brought about physical consummation. Will would have pursued it sooner, had made attempts to tear at his clothes and flesh on the very shore where they’d washed up. It was hungry and it was biting, blood staining flesh between them, fingernails digging into flesh. Will pushed him into the sand, calling attention away from the pain as he straddled his legs, demanding his lips and his teeth and his tongue and his cock. 

Hannibal pushed him away when the pain grew too sharp, insisting that they would need to find shelter until Chiyoh would come to find them. Gaping wounds and exposure to the cold and sex would complicate things in surviving until morning. Such wounds would leave them incapacitated, even once they made it onto the boat, even once they made it to shore, even once they found themselves a home in a cabin in the woods. 

Their first time had been slow, scars thick and pink and tender but healed enough all the same. Hannibal had pinned Will to the bed, his boy’s legs curled tight behind his waist. Heaving breaths and whispered confessions of love were breathed between them, gentle and soft as Hannibal made love between his thighs. It was slow, and gentle, and tearful, emotion brought to its apex in quiet sighs and open-mouthed kisses. 

There was underlying tension, though, a tenseness building between them in tautly drawn muscles and twitching fingers, longing for something more. Longing for something rough. 

Their next time, and the time after that, and the time after that, had gotten rougher, hungrier, more aching and desperate. Flesh taken between teeth, hips pounding so brutally that Will oftentimes struggled to walk the next morning. Hannibal clung to his perception of control and advantage, and Will took him in eagerly, but not without notice. 

Will knew damn well the effects he had on Hannibal. He knew his own power, knew his own strength, knew that Hannibal was nothing more than a dog disillusioned into believing that he was walking his owner, that he was the one holding the leash. He let him have his lead, followed along, but he always knew when to pull his hand tighter. 

It took time before Hannibal allowed himself anything less than complete control within the bedroom. There was some perceived notion of dominance that he struggled to maintain, though such control was surrendered in sharp whines and trembling knees as he came. But up to the point of climax, he commanded the situation, pinning Will down beneath him and taking his pleasure as he saw fit. Fingers spreading his cheeks, fingers pressed past his twitching rim, slicking him up before pushing himself deep inside, thrusting hard and rough until they both had had their fill. It served as enough to satisfy. 

It was more than enough to satisfy, most nights. It left them both boneless and breathing heavy, drenched with sweat and come until they gathered up the strength to shower. It was all that he had longed for, all that he had ached for, all that he had dreamt of for years. And yet… 

It took nearly a month before he allowed himself anything other than complete control. But he was tiring of his tug against the leash, finally allowing for Will to guide him with a steady hand. Small things, at first. Will pinning him down to the mattress as fingers tore at his clothes before Hannibal turned the both of them over. Will rocking down hard against his thrusts, demanding he take him harder, faster. Will leaving bite marks and rows of crescent moons biting against his flesh. Small acts of dominance, small enough that he would be allowed to take them.

But Will was growing impatient. Enough was enough. 

 

Hannibal’s eyes darted between the collar and Will. Will stood over him with arms crossed, eyebrows raised in the low light, waiting for a response. Anything would have sufficed. Outright denial, or confusion, or overcompensated domination would have all been welcome. But instead, Hannibal just sat, and stared. 

“I want you to wear it when you fuck me,” Will said, as though that much wasn’t already obvious. “You can still be on top, for now. But I want to be in charge.” 

Hannibal’s eyes found the collar again. Soft leather, thick and heavy against his hands. It would connect to a chain, a leash of some sort. The metaphorical leash that Hannibal so often found himself bucking against sat in his hands, and Will wanted to tie it around his neck in a very literal sense. 

Perhaps Will knew all the same, understood the power that he held over Hannibal. Perhaps that was what drew him to such manifest desires, what spurred on his lust for power and control. 

Or perhaps it was merely fantasy. Perhaps he simply longed for some experimentation beyond being wholly submissive, or at least hardly dominant. Perhaps it was a mere curiosity that spurred him on. 

Either way, the end result was the same. He was not so stubborn that he would deny Will his pleasure in whatever way he wished to take it. Dominant as he pretended to be, he would always fall to his knees to worship his master. He was hardly one for submission, but if there was anyone who could force him to fall to his knees and pray, it was Will Graham. 

“Now?” 

Of course, he already knew the answer. He could smell it on him, could see it. The outline of his stiff cock within his jeans stood evident, and Hannibal could pick up the whiffs of lubricant, making it quite obvious that Will had already prepped himself for this. Hannibal could imagine such lewd imagery, opening himself up with fingers or toys, denying himself his orgasm in anticipation of something better. He had gotten close, though, Hannibal could smell it. And then he’d pulled up his pants, tucked himself back into his jeans, and sauntered in with the collar in hand. 

“Would you object?” 

His eyes found the collar again before offering it back to Will and baring his neck. 

A devious grin teased at the corners of Will’s mouth as he took a step forward, the scent of him threatening to drown Hannibal in it. He inhaled sharply as Will took the collar from his hands, drawing it tight around his throat, nearly choking him before deciding that it was tight enough. Tight enough that it would leave a mark, a red ring around his throat by the time that it was done. Depending on how hard Will decided to pull, there was a chance that he would wake to bruises. 

To be marked so gloriously would be a blessing, though, he decided. 

Will drew a thin black leash from his pocket. It wasn’t one that he used for the dogs, but one he’d bought specifically for the occasion. Black leather, matching the collar around his neck. Hannibal watched with dark eyes as Will fastened it to the chain, fingers beginning to itch with anticipation. 

Will took a step back, and another, before giving Hannibal’s leash a hard tug, drawing him up to his feet. It didn’t hurt, but it was certainly enough for Hannibal to feel it, to persuade him to obey his master’s command rather than to buck and pull. 

“Get undressed for me,” Will instructed, eying him up and down. 

With as much composure as he could muster, he obeyed, stripping down to skin and bones as his cock began to harden. The stripping of his dignity shouldn’t have aroused him, but to see Will take such control, he couldn’t help but to stiffen at the sound of his command. 

“On your knees,” Will commanded, and Hannibal obeyed, falling to the floor in front of him as Will came closer, the stark outline of his cock straining hard against his jeans. Hannibal licked his lips as Will looped the leash around his wrist, freeing his hand enough to undo the button. Hannibal caught a mere glimpse of the wet patch that stained across light gray boxers before Will pulled out his cock, sitting heavy in his palm. “Open.” 

Hannibal inhaled sharply, figuring that he would be needing the oxygen for what was about to come next. If nothing else, Will’s newfound dominance would leave him breathless, though it was seeming far more likely that he would find himself choking on his cock. He felt his cock twitch hard at the very thought, lips parting and tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock, licking a stripe up to the slick, ruddy head before drawing it into his mouth, suckling lightly around the glans. He felt Will shudder, heard him let out a shaking breath, and smiled to himself with small satisfaction.

He ran his tongue along the slit, lapping at the salty pre-cum gathered there, taking him into his mouth in full, smearing it down the shaft. His tongue was sloppy, spit smeared against flesh and dripping down his chin, but he hardly cared, satisfied with the noises Will made above him, and the weight of him on his tongue. 

Hannibal’s cock grew achingly hard, painfully hard between his thighs. Head bobbing around Will’s length, he allowed for one hand to reach up, curling around his own shaft, slowly beginning to stroke. 

“No,” Will said, voice commanding and stern, though with no particular malice as he tugged against the leash, forcing him to gag around his cock. It was a voice akin to the one that he used to train the dogs, uttering simple and stern commands, punishing when they did something wrong. “You don’t get to play with yourself right now. You’re going to wait for it.” 

A small, pathetic noise was forced up from his throat, humming around Will’s cock in the back of his throat. Still, he obeyed, folding his hands behind his back, tears welling up in his eyes with his tortured denial. 

“Good boy,” Will breathed as Hannibal took him in deeper, the head of his cock nudging against the back of his throat. 

There was some instinct in him that wanted to pull away, to force Will into the bed and pound him into submission, but there was some greater part of him that found fear in how naturally this came. To submit to a lover, to obey his every command simply because it was commanded of him… Such surrender was foreign, and terrifyingly instinctive. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” Will said, offering a bit of warning as a hand threaded through his hair, drawing his eyes up to meet him. “I want you to look at me when I do it.” 

Hannibal let out a moan around his cock as Will thrust into the back of his throat, until he threatened to choke and gag on it. Tears sprung up in his eyes as he struggled to maintain eye contact, focusing on blue eyes as his vision blurred in and out of focus. He couldn’t breathe again until Will pulled back, offering him just a moment of relief, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded and leaking against his thighs until Will pushed himself back in. 

Hannibal had never felt quite so used, as though he was nothing more than something for Will to use and fuck until he got his fill, denying him his pleasure altogether. The thought made him even harder, to see Will taking charge over him and thrusting roughly between his hollowed cheeks. 

“Getting hard, aren’t you? Leaking all over yourself. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it?” Will teased, voice low, rough. “Bet you want to come, don’t you? Bet you want to be inside of me.” 

Hannibal gave as much of a nod as he could muster with Will stuffed between his jaws. 

“Alright, I think you’ve earned it,” Will finally relented, pulling himself out of Hannibal’s mouth, cock slick with spit and pre-come. 

Hannibal slumped on his knees as Will undressed, tossing his clothes aside before giving another firm tug on the leash. Hannibal rose to his feet, unsteady as he felt, and followed Will onto the bed. 

Will fell to his knees, legs spread, leash pulled taut in his hand as Hannibal pulled himself into position, leveling himself up with Will’s hole. He’d been prepped beforehand, still wet with lube, ready to take his cock inside of him. 

_“Mylimasis,”_ Hannibal murmured, marveling at the sight. It wasn’t unlike those he had seen before, the sight before him a familiar one. And yet, there was some new context, some new thrill to it, something that drew soft words of affection and adoration to his lips, hands grazing over flesh. 

“Don’t talk,” Will snapped, tugging hard on the leash. Hannibal shut his mouth, pulled over top of Will, steadying himself as he gripped to the sheets beneath him. “Come on, inside me, now.” 

Hannibal gulped, and obeyed, leveling himself with Will’s leaking rim before sliding into the hilt, burying his face in the crook of Will’s neck as he let out a shuddered groan. Will tightened his grip at the noise, though it was rather out of his own arousal than a move to silence him. 

Hannibal gulped down hard, steadying himself before delivering another thrust into him, allowing his body to take control. His breathing grew heavy, chest heaving as he clung tight to the sheets, reveling in the sounds that Will made beneath him. 

“Good boy,” Will praised softly, rocking back against his thrusts, the room filled with the obscene sound of wet flesh against flesh. “You know how to make Daddy feel good, don’t you?” 

Hannibal let out a low growl, redoubling his efforts. Such authority drove him wilder than he thought it would, such dirty words of praise drawing a twitch from his cock as he buried himself deeper. 

Hannibal may have been the one led and trained and fucking like an animal, but one thing was for certain. Will had his claws in him, buried deep within the flesh, leaving Hannibal completely at his will. But he was a benevolent master, and Hannibal was happy to bow down and worship, joyous in his submission. 

Will reached for one of Hannibal’s hands, drawing it up from the sheets and down between his own thighs, coaxing him to take his cock. Hannibal obeyed, stroking in time with his thrusts, savoring the feeling of Will leaking over his fingers, knowing that he had just as much influence over Will as Will had over him. 

“Good boy, good boy,” Will praised, head thrown back in his pleasure. “Such a good boy… Come for me, baby, come for me.” 

As with every act, Hannibal obeyed. Will’s orgasm followed suit as he buried himself in deep, his muscles contracting around his cock as he came. He shuddered and shook, chest heaving as his vision blurred white, a strangled moan drawn from his throat. Will let out a sharp cry, loud enough to echo through the halls. 

Hannibal pulled out a moment later, collapsing on the bed beside him as the leash fell lax, allowing him freedom. He didn’t speak, allowed Will to care for him as they both regained their balance. 

He vaguely registered as Will pulled the collar from his neck and cast it aside, pressing kisses against the bruised flesh that lay beneath. It was tender, sore, but Hannibal decided that he was proud to wear such markings. 

“Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me with some love for this kinky nonsense.


End file.
